To the Moon and Back
by cherryblu
Summary: Sequal/continuation of Life is Beautiful: As Gabriel, Sylar reaches out to his only living relative Spock and they realize there is more to eachother than realized.
1. Sweet Child of Mine

This is a sequel/ continuation of a one-shot I did earlier called _Life is Beautiful_, so it will probably make more sense to read that first before this one. and of course, I own neither Heroes nor Star Trek. Any one or any thing or concepts you do not recognize, is mine.

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~*~Immortality. Men of ancient times would search the earth to find the means to escape Death. Power, greed, lust; there are many reasons why one would want to become immortal. But what comes next once the unattainable is finally attained? Those seeking adventure in life would find no greater adventure than Death after a long and fulfilling life. As for me, a power-seeking killer, I have escaped The Reaper. But what is life if there is no one to share it with? My Sylar persona had long ago died. Back then, even though I went to bed alone, I did not truly feel as if was alone. Though I was feared, people knew who I was and I did not feel alone……. ~*~

* * *

It is strange how seeing Spock up close for the first time brought all those memories to me. It is three months later, and I had not expected to see Spock at the current establishment where I was currently dining. I was reading the science reports given by the _Enterprise_ crew. My chest ached when the lightning storm in space was the result of a singularity causing a rift in space-time, then and one twenty-five years ago. I know about space-time. Time travel is a fickle thing to mess with….

As I read the report, I hear a crisp voice, followed by laughter. Spock's name is spoken and I turn and see a young man who could almost pass as my double. Though Spock inherited his father's Vulcan ears and brows, he clearly has Amanda's eyes and my bone structure. Disregarding the current company Spock was with-I know them to be Uhura, Kirk, McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov-I walk up to him.

"Hello, Spock," I say. "You've gotten taller since the last time I saw you."

Spock gives me a curious look, "Do I know you?"

I shake my head. "No. But I know you. And your mother."

"You seem…familiar," Spock continues. "I do not recognize your face, but I feel we have met. How did you know my mother?"

"We're family." I see the curious looks from Spock's companions, but I continue to ignore them, as their presence is insignificant to me at the moment.

"Family?" Spock says. "I have met all of my human relatives at Mother's memorial, your face was not among them."

"I know, I regret not being there, but I could not risk being seen," I tell my grandson.

Spock's female companion, Uhura, speaks, "Why don't we all find a seat? That way we can all catch up."

I shake my head, "What I have to say to Spock is only disclosed to him and him alone. After today, it is up to his discretion to inform you as his closest confidants about what I am about to tell him. Believe me, because the underlying information is something that cannot be discovered."

I direct my gaze back to Spock. As a Vulcan, he knows the importance of privacy, but I can see him struggle with the terms I gave, because anything that has to do with Amanda and her connection to her son brought his humanity to the surface. Emotions overtook logic in the end.

With a stoic face, Spock gazed at his human companions and finally laced his hand with Uhura's. "Whatever you have to tell me," he says, finally, "you can discuss in front of them. I am a patient man should you decide to do so."

"Then you will be waiting for a very long time," I say, turning away as the group huddles around Spock. Despite my enhanced hearing, I chose not to listen in. He had made an emotional decision, and with that I do not think him ready for the truth. I pick up the documents and place a few credits on the table to pay for my meal.

I am approximately two steps out of the diner when I hear a gruff voice with a Southern twang, "Excuse me, sir." I turn around and see McCoy at the entrance with Spock at his side. "Go on!" he hisses to Spock. "Git!"

I allow myself a smirk. "I see you have changed your mind."

"Yes. It was illogical of me to involve others in a conversation that did not concern them, especially when you declared it a private matter," Spock says.

"My ride's just over there," I motion over to my hover-car across the street. "I'll take you to my place." Despite the fact that cars today have an automated system that not only unlocks the doors, but also opens one or both doors with a touch of a button, I use my telekinesis to do so. Spock does not notice the difference. I slide the two by one key card into its designated ignition slot, and the car hums to life, rising six inches off the pavement.

Driving along the interstate, I speak, "I know this is sudden, but I want you to know that we are family, and that there is a reason we never met."

"The resemblance is uncanny, but to believe we are family without further explanation would not be logical," Spock tells me. "However, I am curious as to what you know. I do not think you pose of any imminent threat, so, as the phrase goes, I should 'hear you out'."

"Good," I chuckle.

I pull into the driveway of a two-story home of a sleek, twenty-third century design. Inside, however, is, "Fascinating," Spock says, taking in the interior of my home. "You display a living unit of archaic design."

I swallow a laugh as Spock enters the living room and quirks a brow as he stares at the light fixture on the ceiling. "Computer, turn light settings to seventy percent." When nothing happens, Spock stands in the dark room, looking at me, "Your home computing system is malfunctioning."

"It looks of an archaic design because it is archaic," I explain. "I restructured the house to resemble turn-of-the-millennium tech design." I reach over to the light switch on the wall and flipped it, flooding light into the room. "The lights work fine." From the back door, I hear scratching sounds emitting from the other side of the door. I open the door to reveal a large, male Siberian husky, "Hey, Kavik," I greet.

"Turn-of-the-millennium era, if I am correct, dates twenty years before and twenty years after the new millennium," Spock inquires. "Why choose in an era of such setting?"

"It is familiar. If there is something to learn about humans is that they find solace in what is familiar," I tell him. "Spock, I want you to meet Kavik."

Spock only ignores the dog. "How can you find familiarity in an era you have not experienced? Also, by reverting attention to the animal, you appear to be averting the question."

"I find familiarity in that era because I lived it."

Spock tilts his head, "Impossible. While human life expectancy has surpassed their centennial years, there is no record of any human reaching their second centennial, let alone nearing a third. Therefore, it is only logical to believe you are not human."

I shrug. From the refrigerator, I pull two bottled waters. I offer one to Spock, but his hands remain stiffly behind his back. I shrug again and lean against the bar counter separating the kitchen and the living room. "I'm human alright," I tell him. "It is just a little complicated."

"Then explain yourself," Spock stoically demands.

"What do you know of the Eugenics Wars?"

"It was a series of conflicts during the 1990s, of scientists trying to create super-humans by genetic engineering and selective breeding."

"What if I told you historians got that all wrong?" I ask of him.

"How so?"

"It didn't happen in the 1990s, but the 2000s. It was to give ordinary people artificial abilities, abilities beyond imagination," I say, though Spock only gives another head tilt and a quirk of the brow. "Telekinesis, telepathy, teleportation, _flight._"

"While some species exhibit moderate telepathy, you are suggesting the impossible," Spock declares. "There is no probable way any species can do what you are suggesting possible for humans."

"Then let me show you," I open the bottle and pour the contents out. But instead of splashing onto the floor, the water appears to flow a-top an invisible surface. Once the bottle is empty, and the water is just floating between us, I twirl my hand counter clock-wise. The water swirls and soon funnels downward, like a miniature hurricane storm.

I look over to Spock, and his expression is as human as he is willing to express, both brows quirked and mouth agape. "Fascinating," he manages.

As the water continues to swirl, I reach out with a blue tinged hand and the water freezes. Further concentrating, the ice disintegrates into snow flakes and dances to the floor where Kavik licks off the floor.

Spock finds his voice, "Am I correct to assume that there is an ability explaining your presence at the turn of the millennium?"

I nod, "Rapid cellular regeneration, new cells constantly, instantly replacing old ones. Any wound healed in seconds, illness succumbed to an over abundant white cell count, and limbs and organs can re-grow if necessary. What this means is: I can never get sick, never age, and I cannot die.

"I have lived a long time. I went by dozens of alias, hiding under just as many guises. Now, I am going by my given name of Gabriel Gray. But over fifty years ago, it was Grayson," recognition appears in Spock's human eyes.

"You are my grandfather," Spock states. "Mother spoke of you often."

"All good things, I hope," I attempt to joke.

"Yes. She would often say that if I were to surgically modify my ears and brows to appear human," Spock says, "I could pass as an exact duplicate of you. It seems to finally make sense of her preference of turn-of-the-millennium genre of music and vids."

"How so?" I ask.

"Whenever my father questioned her about her preference to such distasteful entertainment, she would reply that it was what she grew up listening to, because it was something her father grew up with," Spock allows a slight, microscopic smirk, "remarkably accurate, I should say."

A somber expression overtook my face, "I hope she knew how much I loved her and her mother."

"She did," he tells me. "She told me stories how she would dream of you, especially when she needed you most."

"It is another ability I have. I can enter dreams, create an environment in their sleep," I explain.

"She had trouble dreaming of you while on Vulcan," Spock says. "With each visit to Terra, she dreamt less and less of you."

"It was a way to gradually let each other go," I say. "But I always kept watch over her, and you, always from a distance. I have an ability to know the location of any living organism wherever they are on Earth." I shrug, "But it becomes more of a guestimation- an estimated guess- the farther a person is from point of origin."

"Why did you leave?" Spock wants to know.

"My family did not know what I could do," I tell him. "I could not burden them with the knowledge that I was born with a genetic mutation that allows me to things one could only imagine in a fantasy. I was born with only one ability, I count not tell them how I came to obtain the others."

"But if you started with one ability, then how did you end with multiple abilities?"

"I had to expose their brain to examine how their ability worked, and to apply it to my genetic structure. Their death was my gain," I tell Spock with a somber tone. "For the first time, I was ashamed of my actions and what I was, and still am, capable of doing. I did not want my wife to know she married a serial killer."

"You admit to still being able to take one's life," Spock states, and for the first time since he arrived at my home, he changes his posture to what seems a defensive stance.

"I am not afraid to taking someone's life, but not in cold blood. Not anymore."

"You may be my grandfather, but you have just admitted to a military commanding officer of murder. I have no choice but to report you to the authorities…" I roll my eyes and use my sound manipulation to prevent his voice from being heard. His hands go to his throat as he attempts to be heard, only to mouth the word _fascinating_.

"Dude, Spock," I say, exasperate, "it's been almost a hundred years. The statutes of limitations have long since past. There is nothing to be done about it now. Trust me that I have no ill intent towards you or your friends or anyone else.

"Can you trust me?"

"Yes," Spock says, surprising himself that he has his voice back. "I am uncertain how to approach this to my companions, or if I should. I understand now why you preferred not to speak of this in their presence."

"As I said, it is up to your discretion what to tell them."

Spock asks, "What do you prefer?"

"I would rather them not knowing, but I have a feeling that you will have to tell them something," I surmise.

"If you wish your secret to remain so, then so a secret it shall remain," Spock says. "To my companions, you are a distant relative to which I had no acknowledgment prior to today."

"I thought Vulcans found it illogical to lie," I ask of Spock.

"On the contrary," he says with a quirk of a brow, "I am only omitting certain facts. You are a distant relative I was not aware about prior to today."

A hailing signal emits from within Spock's pocket. He pulls out a communicator, "Spock here."

"Kirk here," it says. "Just checking up on you, it's been almost two hours and we just now realized the name of your relative had eluded us."

Spock nods, "Yes, I am with Gabriel at his current place of residence. I believe our discussion has come to a conclusion."

"Good," Kirk says. "Do I need to send someone to pick you up?"

"No," I say, loud enough for Kirk to hear me. "I can take Spock where ever he needs to go."

After ending the transmission and we are heading back to my car, Spock turns to me, "When will be the next appropriate meeting? I look forward to hearing more about Mother…and of your life prior to meeting Grandmother."

I allow myself a smile, "Whenever's convenient for you, I've got all the time in the world." Before entering the car, I remember something and rush into the house to grab something. Coming back out, I hand Spock the latest generation of the iPod. "Here, it is a music player. It contains just about every song your mom and I like to listen to from the twentieth and twenty-first century rock/alternative genre, and some movies. It was something she and I used to do. Maybe it will bring you closer to Amanda, sharing something she had before meeting Sarek."

Spock held the iPod close to him, "Thank you."

* * *

A/N: I hope it seems like a good story, and I apologize if it seems slow. I felt I had to build a connection between Spock and Sylar/Gabriel before bringing in anyone else. And I also want to include Starquilter57 and Aphrodite420, I had gotten the idea of Amanda and Spock being rock fans from some of their stories, so I highly recommend checking out some of their ST2009 stuff.


	2. Drops of Jupiter

_~*~Logic. Emotion. Two worlds that base their livelihood on one or the other, yet I can never truly belong to either. In my twenty-six years of existence, I have never really appreciated my mother's people, because appreciation is an emotion. To appreciate is to be human, and to be human was something I would never allow myself to be. But now Mother is gone, as with the billions of Vulcans that died that day. For several months I believed myself to be alone, despite my Nyota at my side. Mother had always been the one I could truly be myself, and now she is gone…~*~_

* * *

No words are spoken between my Grandfather and me as we silently make our way back to Starfleet. My mind is conflicted with everything he had told me, and yet I cannot refute his history. That he is human, but is 281 years old and capable of extraordinary things due to a mutation in his genetic makeup. There have been no accurate data about this occurrence other than the data files about the Eugenics period, only to be told we have been misinformed.

As he has been evidently keeping watch over me while attending the Academy, Grandfather drives his way through campus towards the building that contains my quarters. Finding an empty spot, he slides out his key card and the car gently sinks to the pavement, and I take this time to observe him before I take my leave.

"What?" Grandfather asks, catching me studying him. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No," I say, unsure of what to tell him, "I am just curious as to why now? Why make your existence known to me now, rather than when Mother was still alive?"

He shrugs, "Why not? I gave my word to her mother-your grandmother-that I would keep Amanda safe, and I had failed. I could not risk leaving the planet without exposing me and my kind. I was a coward."

I tilt my head, "The Federation is not ready for the kind of knowledge that of which you know. As no one can predict the outcome of reactions of the Federation and outside, hostile races, it is only logical to protect that knowledge. I am sure Mother would be displeased with the idea of you being tested and scrutinized. As a product of a human and Vulcan union, the scrutiny is less than ideal."

"I just feel I could have done more," Grandfather says. "But without stepping on too many butterflies, I am too late."

"Butterflies?"

"Chaos Theory," he explains.

"Ah, yes. How certain actions can affect the following events in an unpredictable pattern," I say. "But what does this have to do with Mother?"

"Some other time, I can explain it to you," Grandfather tells me. He looks toward the building. "I have a feeling your friends are up there, waiting for you."

I nod, a human trait I had long ago picked up, "When can we meet again, I am most intrigued about your past, Grandfather."

Grandfather chuckles, "You don't have to call me Grandfather, or Grandpa or whatever. Gabriel's just fine. But like I said, I'm available for whenever you're free. I'm not hurting for money, so I have plenty of free time."

"You were in pain?" I ask.

"Oh no," _Gabriel_ says, "I meant that money is not a concern at the moment, so I am not working. But if you want, stop by tomorrow, and bring your friends. I can russle up a barbeque, vegetarian stuff for you. We can have a grand ole time."

"I do not wish to pose an imposition…," I start, but Gabriel only waves me off.

"It's not an imposition, it's an invitation," Gabriel reaches over to the glove department and pulls out a piece of paper. He waves a hand over it and numbers appear on the paper. He hands me the paper and sees my raised brow, prompting him to say, "Thoughtography, to 'burn' images from my mind onto a surface. Anyway, number to my cell phone, err, _communicator_. Noon, tomorrow."

I take the piece of paper and I bade my farewell. I take the stairs to my quarters on the fourth floor. My hearing picks up noises from inside, indicating that Nyota, Kirk, and McCoy are present, watching the news station on my view screen. Seeing them on the couch confirms it.

"Hey, buddy," Kirk says, rising, "how'd it go with your relative?"

"It was intriguing, and very informative," I say, placing myself next to Nyota and she laces her fingers with mine, initiating my touch-telepathy. She sends me her love through the connection. "He has invited us to his home to consume nourishments, a luncheon ritual called a 'barbeque'."

McCoy lets out a grunt in what I would assume to be his approval, "A good ole fashion barbeque, I like the guy already."

I feel a hum of concern from Nyota, "What is it, beloved?"

"He does know you don't eat meat, right? That is what is usually served at a barbeque," she says.

"Yes, Gabriel did inform me that there will be a vegetarian cuisine for my consumption."

"How are you guys related anyway?" Kirk wants to know. "I mean, you have never seen him around before, so…?"

"We are related through my mother's side of the family," I say, keeping my face neutral.

Kirk rolls his eyes, "Of course, I clearly remember the decidedly round ears and brows parallel to his eyes. Way to state the obvious, Mr. Spock."

"He is a distant relative of mine, whom I had no knowledge about prior to today," I tell them repeating the mantra I told Grandfather.

"You're not telling us everything," McCoy states.

"Yes," I say. "Gabriel told me it is up to my discretion on what to inform you about my relative, and I have come to the conclusion that it is not my secret to tell." I stand up and place my hands behind my back, looking at my companions. "If you will excuse me, it is time for my meditation."

McCoy and Kirk both nod, concluding that anymore attempts for information regarding Grandfather would be futile. Only Nyota remains and she pulls me close to her as I place my forehead against hers. We stand there in comfortable silence for several minutes. "So," she finally says, "what's he like? This Gabriel person, you don't have to tell me anything specific, just what is he like?"

"He is truly a fascinating person," I say. "He has seen so much, and he has told me only a fraction of what he has experienced. He had a violent past, but that is what makes him so…" I am momentarily at a loss of how to describe him, "humble, I suppose." I step away from Nyota and take her hands into my own and held them close. "If were to tell you something, do I have your word that you will not repeat this to Jim and the others?" I ask of her. "It is pertinent that this information does not get out, particularly to Starfleet."

Nyota's eyes widen at the implication, "This must be really huge if you feel you have to withhold information from Starfleet."

I agree, "It is, far larger than what I had anticipated."

"Ok, what is it?"

"Gabriel is my biological, maternal grandfather," I confess.

I sense confusion from Nyota. "Hmm, okay? Has he been placed in a cryogenic stasis unit all these years?" Nyota asks. "He looks no older than thirty, and I still don't understand how this might have anything to do with Starfleet."

"Gabriel was born in 1977," I begin. "He is capable of doing extraordinary things, things that can only be imagined in fantasy, all due to a genetic mutation."

"Spock, I've never seen you this worked up before," Nyota says.

"It may seem illogical to believe, I have witnessed just a fraction of what he can do with just his mind," I say. "It is also important that Starfleet do not hear of this. They might see Grandfather and people like him as a danger to the Federation, a living weapon, something to study. Grandfather says it is dues to genetics, so it would be safe to assume that it is hereditary. They would want to look at me, and I would be obligated to participate in any studies, or risk court marshal."

Nyota cups my face with a hand and leans in to place a kiss on my lips; however, I can still feel her confusion and some doubt. "It might be easier to show you," I say.

"A mind meld?"

"A face to face introduction, perhaps?"

Nyota tilts her head, "This buzz I'm feeling, you're excited?"

"I suppose I am," I open the door to my quarters. "Come. The next shuttle leaves in a half hour. We ought to leave now to surprise Grandfather." We take the lift to the ground floor and walk to the nearest shuttle station. As we wait for the shuttle, I show Nyota the gift Grandfather gave me.

"Mother had a fascination with turn-of-the-millennium history, particularly music," I say. "She would spend time with Grandfather, having him tell her about any and all things from that era. She in turn shared that experience with me, mostly in the form of films from the twentieth century."

"You really have an amazing family, Spock," Nyota says, and the shuttle arrives and we take our place at the back for some privacy. "Tell me, Spock, how has your grandfather…lived this long?"

"He called it 'rapid cellular regeneration'. New cells are constantly and instantaneously replacing old ones: he cannot get sick, age, or die."

Nyota looks thoughtful, "He's lived almost three hundred years."

"He will most likely live to see three hundred more," I say.

"'Most likely'?" Nyota says.

"He says he cannot die, but it does not exclude the possibility he cannot be killed," I tell her, logically. The shuttle reaches our destination and we make our way to Grandfather's home. In the distance I see him. He has a large, thin box in one hand and sack containing food items in the other. He walks to his door, stop, tilt his head, and then look in our direction. He smiles as we approach.

"Looks like I got home just in time," he says. "I hope you like cheese pizza, and I do hope you'll stop by tomorrow for the barbeque." He directs the latter to Nyota, effortlessly walking backwards and the front door automatically opens behind him.

"Of course!" Nyota exclaims. Grandfather's pet comes up to Nyota and sits at her feet, waving a single paw in the air. "Hey there, puppy!"

"Nyota, the sheer size of the animal indicates that it is in its adulthood years," I explain to her, only to receive a giggle from Nyota and a roll of the eyes from Grandfather in response.

Nyota kneels down to scratch behind the beast's ears, and in response it lays on its back to expose its belly, prompting her to scratch it as well. "You are just too adorable! What's its name?"

"Kavik," Grandfather replies. "He's about seven years old, I've had him since he was four months old, so he's pretty well behaved." He extends a hand to Nyota, "I'm Gabriel. Gabriel Gray."

Nyota takes his hand, "I'm Nyota Uhura. I'm Spock's girlfriend."

Grandfather, while still holding Nyota's hand, steps back and gives Nyota a quick look over. "You have chosen well, Spock," he says, with a smirk that could only be described as sly, causing Nyota to blush.

I managed to refrain from growling but my hand had automatically reached out to Nyota's belt loop and pulled her closer to me. "Yes," I reply. "She has, as humans often say, both brains and beauty." Acknowledging I had an illogical moment, I turn my attention to the animal. "Kavik is a strong Vulcan name. A prominent Vulcan by that name was involved in the study of xenobotany a few centuries ago. How did you come by that name, Grandfather?"

"Gabriel, remember?" he says. "Kavik means 'wolverine' in some native Alaskan language. Other than what I've read about Vulcan history since Amanda married your father, I admit I don't know too much about their culture or that of other alien cultures. I can't risk going off planet and always kept to myself."

"All this time you've never been off planet?" Nyota asks, in disbelief.

Grandfather, _Gabriel, I corrected myself,_ looks at me and lifts a brow, "She knows."

I nod, "Of my companions, she is the only one I have explained of our relations. We are to be mated soon. Keeping any secrets would be illogical, as she is fully trustworthy."

Gabriel shrugs, "Ok, I trust your judgment." He opens the pizza box and places a slice onto three plates. Soon he places three glasses on the counter. From the refrigeration unit, a pitcher of lemonade and Gabriel pours into each glass. "Come. Let's sit."

"What do you want to know," he asks, biting into the pizza. I, however, only stare at the slice. "Is there something wrong with the pizza?" Gabriel asks of me.

I look up, "There is nothing wrong." Gabriel just looks at me.

"I can tell when people are lying," he says. "You, however, are only telling me half the truth."

"Vulcans do not eat with their hands," I admit. "I did not want to be troublesome, but…"

"Nonsense!" Gabriel says, and soon, without getting up, a fork and knife gently glides through the air and lands on my plate. "You need to stop seeing yourself as an imposition."

Nyota is still staring at the utensils, mouth agape. "Wow," she breathes. "Spock told me you could do things, and said something about cell regeneration, but…wow!"

"I can do a lot of things," Gabriel says. "But I'm not omnipotent. There was a time I thought myself so, but that was a lifetime ago."

Nyota nods, "Can you tell me more about what you can do? What happened between you and your family?"

Gabriel tells Nyota the same things he told me earlier, and goes into further demonstration of his abilities: alchemy, freezing, illusions, plant manipulation; and discusses his past with my grandmother and why he had to leave and how he came to possess all these abilities.

"You tell us that you are not omnipotent," I say. "But you have clearly showed us that you are."

Gabriel sighs, "I see how jaded your opinion of me has become. But I'm not God, and I learned a long time ago that it is not my place to play God. The abilities I've shown you…you still cannot imagine the things I can do. I have a super-enhanced eidetic memory. I am able to remember every single detail of every single day of my immortal life from now until life as we know it ceases to exist. I am _tired_."

Nyota shakes her head, "But you have taken lives."

"It has been nearly a century," I tell Nyota. "I believe his continuing existence of immortality is punishment enough to him. By this time, there is not much the authorities can do at this moment. They would only have his spoken confession; it has been so long ago that everything would be considered circumstantial and his words would be of a mad man."

"Thank you, Spock," Gabriel says, and looks at Nyota. "So I'm going to ask you the same question I asked Spock: Can you trust me?"

"If Spock trusts you, then I do to," she says. "I'm just having trouble trying to forget about all those people…"

Gabriel says, "I could always make you forget. If you prefer, I can make it so that you cannot remember me at all."

Nyota's eyes widens, "No, no, I'm good."

"Gabriel," I say, "may I ask a personal query?"

"Shoot," he says, leaning back into the couch and placing a foot on the coffee table in front of us. "Err, speak your mind, I should say," he says, noticing how I tend to take human idioms literally.

"If you find displeasure of immortality and superior memory," I start, "why did you obtain such abilities?"

"I was not thinking at the time of the long term consequences," he says. "I wanted the instant gratification of having those abilities, regardless of who got hurt. Now I shall forever be shameful of what I had done. Because, in the end, it cost me my family."

We were silent for a moment, and then Nyota tries to stifle a yawn, prompting me to say, "It is getting late, and Nyota needs her rest." We all stand and Gabriel walks us to the door. "I look forward to the barbeque."

"I second that thought," Gabriel says. "It has been a long day for everyone."

Gabriel makes a few offers to drive us back to Starfleet, but in the end Nyota and I preferred the walk back to the shuttle station. The night is clear, and Nyota's gaze is focused on the stars above. "Do you think he'll ever travel off planet?" Nyota asks.

I only tilt my head and link my arm through Nyota's. She continues, "I mean, traveling off planet has become a way of life in a way, that no one would give it a second thought about staying planet side. I couldn't imagine _not _exploring the stars. Gabriel, your grandfather, he has the opportunity to explore it all."

"But what about when the time comes that there is nothing left to explore?" I ask. "What would there be to see when he has seen it all, and to be the only one of his kind to have seen it all? He cannot predict who gets what ability, and with the colonization of planets, it is possible they all have traversed elsewhere. Humans with abilities are far outnumbered by those without abilities, and locating any has become futile. In the end, death would be the next great adventure."

"That is so sad," Nyota comments. "Well, what about the person he got the cell regeneration ability? He wouldn't be alone, not exactly."

I look at her with a raised brow, "Considering the circumstances he obtained that particular ability, the possibility they parted ways on friendly terms is less than 2.482%. The possibility they remained in contact is even less so."

"You're right," Nyota admits. "Still, he could find way. Why hasn't he?"

"I do not know," I say. "To be able to travel off-planet, one would have to submit their photo, fingerprints-for humans, and genetic profile yearly. In addition to illusions, he can physically alter his appearance. Perhaps he cannot change his prints and genetic profile that way."

"It would be suspicious if the same prints and profile kept reappearing with a different face for over a century," Nyota agrees. "But still, Bones would still get a kick out of seeing him heal from a wound."

"Perhaps we should be more concerned about Mr. Kirk's welfare tomorrow," I say. "How temperamental my grandfather has become over the last two centuries is still questionable, I do not wish for Mr. Kirk to test his patience."

This gets a laugh from Nyota. At this time I finally notice that we are back at my quarters. "Yes, Jim really does have a way of knowing what buttons to press and really piss people off," she agrees, and we slowly make our way to my bed chamber. We undress and change into sleepwear and Nyota places our day's clothing into the refresher and I prepare the bed.

Once situated under the covers and Nyota has curled under my arms, she begins to speak, "Tell me about her, your mother. You never talk about her, even after that day."

"What would you like to know?"

"I dunno. You mentioned once that your mother was greatly influence by her father. Now that we've met him and know the truth, maybe you can connect what aspects of Gabriel influence her."

I think about what she said, and many things about my mother made clearer sense. "Mother would tell me how Grandfather, _Gabriel_, would always drop everything he was doing, just to spend some time with her. She claimed that Gabriel knew his time was up. The reports surrounding his death were marked as negligence but nothing to prove suicide, and she knew it was suicide. She just did not know why." I am silent for a moment. "She loved her father very much; I often had trouble understanding her emotions towards him."

"And now?" Nyota prompts.

"Why all of this sudden curiosity?" I ask.

"Well, you have never been this open," she replies. "Now the flood gates are unleashed and I want to hear more."

"Illogical."

Nyota responds by nipping my pectoral muscle. "You're avoiding the question, buster."

"Whatever the cause of death," I say, "I had found solace in the fact that Mother would be with her father, if one were to believe in the afterlife."

At that moment, my comm station signals an in coming call. Kirk. "How can I be of service, Mr. Kirk?" I ask, masking any indication of how annoyed I am to be disturbed.

"Bones and I were wondering if we should bring anything to this shindig tomorrow," Kirk asks.

"I would not know, Mr. Kirk," I reply. "I never had much experience with 'barbeques'. It might be polite to bring something, anyways. Is there anything else I can assist you with?"

"Yeah, what dress code should we follow?"

I can almost feel Nyota rolling her eyes behind me. "Regulated Starfleet uniforms will unnecessary, as we are on leave until _Enterprise_ is finished being refitted for repairs. Gabriel has no affiliation with Starfleet, so casual wear will be suitable." I finish and stare at Kirk through the view screen, as if to dare him to ask further questions. He does.

"Who else will be there?"

"He planned this at the spur of the moment; it is unlikely to expect anyone other than myself, Nyota, you and Dr. McCoy, and Lts. Sulu, Scott, and Chekov," I allow myself a microscopic tilt of my lips. "So there will be no need for you to be in your 'finest duds'."

"Ouch," Kirk chuckles. "But nah, Sulu, Scott and Chekov all have something going on tomorrow, so it'll be us guys and-oh hey Uhura!"

Nyota appears at my side at the comm station with a blanket around her, "Goodnight, Kirk. And a piece of advice: don't do anything to test Gabriel's patience." Kirk's eyes widen, and before he could reply, Nyota turns off the comm station and programs any further incoming calls to directly go to voicemail for the rest of the night.

"Nyota, my savior," I say as I pull her to my lap and whisper against her neck. "I shall forever be in your debt."

"Well," she says, coyly, "I know one way you can repay me."

"Anything," I tell her, before nibbling her earlobe.

"It involves you. Me. Stark naked."

I whisk Nyota up, "As you wish," I say, before racing back to the bed.

* * *

A/N: I know Spock seems a bit OOC, but I figured if there is anytime for Spock to explore his humanity, it'd be while explore his human family.


	3. Change the World

_~*~Life as we know it will continue forth, regardless the tragedies of man's past. Standing in the eye of the storm, I watch the life around me transition from one era to the next, while I myself is left on standby. Even with the ability to fix the past, the resulting outcome can prove ill. The path of life I am now riding is a result of a tamper in time, and to reset the path to its original course can prove disastrous still…~*~_

* * *

It is nearly 11 in the morning, and Nyota is finishing up with Spock's favorite veggie lasagna while I put aside the dish of deviled eggs, and use my telekinesis to multitask with preparing stuffing some pita bread with hummus, olives, egg, lettuce while over the stove, making some steamed veggies, pasta with alfredo sauce, and some classic macaroni and cheese.

"Wow," I hear Nyota whisper.

I turn around to face her, "Oh, sorry. Sometimes I get a little carried away. It's been a while since I last entertained any guest."

Nyota waves it off, "Oh, you're fine. It's just that…it's not something I'm used to seeing. Science and technology has probably come a long way since you were born, but it still seems like magic."

"It still does seem that way sometimes," I say. "Thanks again for forwarding some of the vegetarian recipes and for stopping by early to help me prep this stuff."

"It's no problem."

"For as long as I've been around," I say, "I could never figure out how those vegetarian people could live without some kind of meat in their diet. Me, I like my meat: Steaks, hot dogs, ribs, all the good stuff."

We are silent as we carry some of the dishes outside with some hot plates. With only a thought, I pick up the lawn table and chairs and place them a few feet to the right so that they are under the shade of a tree. I heat up the grill when Nyota speaks again,

"Gabriel?"

"Hmm?"

"If you don't mind my asking, what were you like, before you met Spock's grandmother?"

I had not been expecting that question. The flame of the grill is at its highest setting, but the question causes me to turn and look at her and place my hand on the cooking grid, momentarily forgetting the heat.

"God damn!" I curse. Nyota, with the grace and speed of a gazelle, rushes to my side and takes my burnt hand into hers and right before her eyes, the injured flesh repairs its self and only the black smudges from the grill remain on my palm. "See?" I raise my hand, waving my fingers around. "No harm done."

"Sorry," she cringes.

"It's fine," I assure her. "But I thought I already told you what I was like, before."

"You did, but I kind of thought there was more to it," Nyota says.

"I was a bad person," I tell her. "A lot of people died because of me. Even when I stopped going after people with abilities, it was still a long time before I would let anyone close to me, before I thought of anyone other than myself."

"That just sounds so sad," Nyota says, and I only grunt in response. "If you had the ability to change the past, would you?"

"If? I _do_ have the ability," I tell her. "I can manipulate time and space. But in answer to your question, no, I wouldn't change it. Things happen for a reason, and it is not my place to change it. For as long as I have had that ability, I've never time traveled."

Now Nyota looks at me in disbelief, "You can _do_ that? Do you know what this could mean for Spock? Your own daughter?"

I look at Nyota hard, "Don't you dare use them against me. You cannot comprehend what you are asking of me."

Nyota glares in return, "The attack on the _Kelvin_, the Battle of Vulcan, it was not supposed to happen! You can change that!"

"I could, but I can't"

"You mean you won't!" she retorts. "Billions of people were not supposed to die!"

I take a deep breath, "Changing the past could always change for the worse. I cannot go to the future to prevent the_ Narada_ from falling into the singularity because that future no longer exists. If I prevent the _Kelvin_ from being where it was when the_ Narada_ arrived then the Romulans could delve further into Federation territory, and still able to do God knows what even without the red matter. Regardless, the _Narada _still arrives, thus canceling out the future they came from."

Nyota is in tears at this moment, "You don't know that for sure. There is always when the _Narada_ appears at the singularity."

I roll my eyes, "At the edge of Klingon space, risking their attention? I know enough that they are nasty little bastards. They could interpret it as an act of war. There are thousands of different possible variables to consider. Besides," I stroll up to Nyota, lean towards her and whisper harshly in her ear, "even if I did restore the time line, made it as it was before, would you be willing to sacrifice your relationship with Spock?"

Nyota took a step back, "What do you mean?"

"I know about Spock's elder self, he came through the singularity with Nero. Spock told me that he asked his elder self about your guy's relationship. Spock was told that your relationship never existed in that timeline," I tell the young woman, not allowing myself any sympathy. "Be happy with what you have, and accept the way things are now."

In the distance I hear Kavik barking madly and soon the voices Kirk, McCoy, and Spock follow. "Do not speak of this conversation to Spock, other wise I will just make you forget…" I let the threat hang, letting Nyota interpret the meaning. Instantly, I then replace the scowl with a warm grin as I greet my guests as they walk around the house to the back yard.

"Hey guys," I say. "I'm glad you could make it!"

Kirk jovially returns the greeting, "Yeah, I'm glad to be here. I'm Jim, Jim Kirk. This here is my friend and medical officer Leonard McCoy."

The three of us shake hands, and I notice that they are all carrying food containers, "Oh, more food!"

"Yes," Spock says, "I thought it would be impolite not to bring something when you would be providing so generously."

"We've got," McCoy begins, "Oreo ice cream, fruit salad, and a cheese ball with crackers."

"Great!" I say, taking the ice cream. "I'll put this in the freezer, and it would be my honor if you would heat up the steaks. They're right night next to the grill, along with some 'dogs and hamburger meat. Trust me, I got enough food to feed a village."

"As there are some countries where starvation is still prominent," Spock says, "why not make the effort to feed those in need, when we do not need such excess amounts of nourishments?"

I only quirk a brow, as Kirk and McCoy laugh, "Spock, buddy," Kirk says, "he doesn't really have that much food. It's a figure of speech to mean he just has a lot of good food."

Spock quirks a brow of his own, "Your human idioms have such duplicitous meanings. It is a wonder your species understand one another at all." Spock follows me into the house. "Grandfather-" "_Gabriel._"- "Unless I am mistaken, it appears that Nyota was upset upon our arrival."

I sigh, "Yes, she was, and probably still is."

"Might I inquire as to why?" Spock asks. "After all, I am the one going home with her tonight."

I look at Spock, and notice the light tilt of a corner of his lips, and with a tilt of the lips of my own, I reply, "Don't let her hear you talk like that. But yeah, we had a little disagreement, regarding my _talents_. Do not concern yourself, it will pass over and your girl will be good as new."

Spock only quirks a brow but lets it go. After storing the ice cream, Spock and I make our way back outside. Kirk and McCoy are having a ball with the grill. "Hey!" McCoy cries out, a beer in one hand and the two-tongued prong in the other, "The host arrives!" he exclaims.

"Please tell me he's not that much of a light-weight," I say to Kirk, taking the prong and the plate of steaks and handing them to Kirk.

"Nah," Kirk says. "He claims that he's just happy to actually getting some good food."

"Mess hall food gets old you know," McCoy interjects. "With the synthesizers and food cards, people will eventually forget how to feed themselves. A home-cooked meal will become a thing of the past; obsolete! You can't carry a food synthesizer around, and food cards can break. What would happen you were to get stranded, with nothing but the land to live off? You'd starve, most likely." After McCoy's tirade, he finds himself in the center of attention with four pairs of eyes staring at him as if he lost his mind.

"Wow," Nyota mutters.

"Yeah," I say. "I'm gonna get some music. Hold tight." In the kitchen I grab my iPod and dock. I shoot a spark of electricity to charge the batteries and set the playlist that contains mostly of David Bowie, Eagles, Matchbox 20, Breaking Ben, and some 22nd century musicians.

"Gabe," Kirk starts, mouth full of hamburger and fried rice, "you are one hell of a cook."

"Why thank you," I say. "So, word on the street is that you've been made captain, straight out of the academy. That must be quite the accomplishment."

"Yeah," Kirk says, ducking his head a bit. "I kind of wished it was under different circumstances, but what happened, happened. Spock tell you anything about the situation?"

I nod, "Yeah, he told me just about everything. I also read the report, about Nero and the space-time thing." In the corner of my eye, I see Nyota glancing at me with piqued interest.

"Well," Kirk continues, "with everything out of line from the continuum and all, it was the universe's way of righting its self out: me becoming captain with all my bridge crew where they should be. I think."

"But Kirk," Nyota jumps in, "if you had the chance, the _ability-_" Spock's and my attention swivel to Nyota, for we both hear the stress on that word- "to fix the past so that Nero never came through the singularity, would you take it?"

Kirk and McCoy look at one another with confusion, "If that was even possible, it would be unlikely to fix things they way they were prior," McCoy says.

"From tactical stand point," Kirk says, "to change the past could make things worse in the future."

I want to jump in the air and say _I told you so_, but I am feeling too much anger at Nyota for asking such question but berating myself for bringing up a question that opened the doors for her to do so. I have to tuck my hands under the table to hide the blue sparks emitting from my hands. "Listen, little girl-"

But Nyota puts a hand up, "I'm going to pretend you did not just say that. But Jim, look at all the things Nero has done."

"Yeah," Kirk says, "he came to the past and fucked things up for the future."

"Nyota," Spock says, "I must ask what has gotten into you?"

Before Nyota could reply to Spock, I reach over to grab her wrist and concentrate. When I open my eyes, Nyota is looking around her wildly, as Spock, Kirk, McCoy and everything else appear frozen in time. "Yeah, Nyota, what has gotten into you?"

"You don't get it," Nyota says. She gets up and starts to pace; I get up and follow her.

"Enlighten me."

"You can fix things. How can you just stand there with the knowledge that a whole civilization is gone when it wasn't suppose to happen?" Nyota asks.

"I could fix things so that I never got Claire Bennet's ability," I say. "I would either die at a ripe old age, if not gutted by some angry father or brother, and Spock would never be born. Spock will never travel to Romulus, make empty promises, and piss off some angry Romulan. It will just be some other unfortunate soul and their planet that gets annihilated. We can't predict the outcomes of these things. Let it go, little girl."

By this time, my control of my electricity is still a bit sketchy. Nyota snarls and gives me a hard shove, knocking me to the ground, releasing my hold on time and the electricity. I see my three other guests become startled at Nyota and I being there one second to Nyota standing over me as pulses of electricity shoot out. The few pulses I had let out cause my guests to fall to the ground in pain with shock. I manage to contain the pulses but I still convulse with electricity sparking all over me.

"I….can't…seem to….stop," I stutter, dragging myself to the tree. Spock gathers himself and begins to come towards me. "No…don't come…any closer," I reach my hand out to stop him, but a thick bolt of lightning shoots out, tearing up the ground. Spock steps away in time, but continues forth. With a decisive hand, Spock reaches a hand and grabs hold of the base of my neck, right where it meets my shoulder, and then I see black.

When I come to, I no longer feel the shocks of pain of my ability going haywire. Of all my abilities, it seems that electricity is the one I have least control over. Fortunately, it doesn't happen on a regular base.

"How long was I out?" I ask, groggily. McCoy is standing over me, waving a tricorder.

"Ten minutes," he says, grumpily. "Which is the shortest amount anyone spent under the Pinch, and you don't seem to be suffering from any ill effects of that lightning bit, either."

"How were you able to do that, anyway?" Kirk asks. "I have never seen anything like that, so what makes you so special?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," I mutter, with sarcasm.

"Actually, I would."

I lean my head against the tree, taking my time. I steal a glance to Spock and Nyota. She has the grace to look ashamed of the transaction that went between us. Spock, on the other hand, is conflicted between following his captain or his family.

"This is not how I wanted you to find out," I finally say.

"Find out what?" McCoy asks.

I only stand and look at Spock and Nyota, "Why don't you two explain this situation to them?" With a pointed look at Nyota, I finish, "I grew tired of trying to explain myself." So without another word, I walk toward the house. I wonder to myself, as I step into the bathroom and start the shower, should I have introduced myself, just twenty-four hours before? I am I better off being alone? Is Spock better off not knowing me?

My thoughts are brought back to Nyota. It is not like her to be so…illogical. Spock means a lot to her, and his people were important to him, as is his mother. My daughter. Nyota had really toed the line, mentioning Amanda like she did. This path of time has been disrupted enough as it is, to go back and save Amanda could possibly have ill-side effects that I can't predict. Even if saving her didn't result any dire results, what about the billions of others on Vulcan? What about them? I groan as I am reminded of the early twenty-first century, with the Petrellis and their do-gooding clan. Though, if there is anyone that understands the Butterfly Effect, it's Mama Petrelli. I almost long for her company, her advice as how to best treat this situation without robbing them of their civil liberties.

I feel truly lost.

* * *

AN: basing facts off of memory alpha, the TOS crew didn't have voice activated food replicators, and I know a lot of fics have that in their stories and go by that. So don't hate me for changing up what people are used to reading.

And I hope I made sense when explaining why Gabriel refused to change the past so that Nero never happened.


	4. Ghost of You

~*~_Logic offers serenity humans seldom experience: the control of feelings. Logic serves as guide past emotions and feelings that traverse towards the 'what ifs?' and 'what might have beens' after contrite actions. It is illogical to dwell on actions already committed and to wish for a different path, because wishing is a human thing to do… _~*~

* * *

I watch Grandfather storm towards his home, his pet galloping behind him; tail between the legs. Kirk and McCoy, wide-eyed and confused, follow his movements as Grandfather motion with his hand for the sliding door to open and shut behind him, as the with the rest of the windows and blinds are slammed shut.

"Spock," Kirk cries, "what the _hell_ was that about?"

"How was he able to create lightning? From his own body?" McCoy wants to know.

I stand there, facing the two people I consider my best friends, my**t'hai'lu**, and I am at a loss. I straighten my spine and hold my hands behind my back, and my face is free from any expression; but my eyes, my human eyes, betray the emotions I am feeling. "It would be best if we converse at another location," I finally say. "I have come to the conclusion we are no longer welcome here."

I see Kirk's expression soften. He nods, "Sure, buddy. Let's get outta here, we can come back in a few hours."

Whatever food left on the table lay to waste in the late August heat as we make our way around the house towards the shuttle station. At my side, Nyota links her middle- and index-fingers to mine, but instead of the usual array of emotion felt through the bond-nothing. She is attempting to block her emotions from me. With a quick glance, I look over to her and our eyes meet but she looks away and I briefly feel something. A luke-warm feeling, leaving my cheeks flushed and a lump forms in my throat, I have come to sense as shame.

What does Nyota have to feel shameful for?

"Nyota," I whisper. "What transpired between you and Gabriel this morning?"

"Nothing happened."

"His anger seems to suggest other wise," I say. "Did he attempt to harm you in anyway?"

She shakes her head, "No, nothing like that. It is more of what he is capable of doing but won't."

"So something did happen, as opposed to the 'nothing' you proclaim," I say with a raised brow. "It is imperative that we understand what it is exactly Gabriel is capable of doing. He is still a man; he must be treated as such."

"You're right," she says. During this time, we have boarded a shuttle and I wait for the sign that Kirk and McCoy are ready to step off at a currently unknown destination. We are silent for the duration, until I notice Kirk motion to McCoy. We have reached the destination.

We were in Golden Gate Park. In the distance I see the silhouette of Starfleet Academy, and not far from it, the near finished construction of the memorial for those cadets and officers killed in the line of duty in Vulcan's orbit.

"So," Kirk begins, as we settle ourselves around a picnic table overlooking the bay. "Mind telling us what happened back there?"

"I am unsure where to begin," I tell him.

"Well, you can start by tellin' us who this Gabriel person is," McCoy says.

"Just remember, I'm not here as your captain or as your commanding officer," Kirk says, "I'm here as your friend. If there is something going on, you can tell us."

I look over to Nyota and she gives me an encouraging nod, and I turn to look at my friends. "Gabriel Gray is my biological, maternal grandfather," I say.

Kirk and McCoy are confused. "Uh, shouldn't grandparents be..I dunno…._old_?" McCoy asks.

"He is quite old, in fact," I respond. "He is 281 Standard years old."

"How is that possible?" Kirk wants to know. "Unless he's been in cryo for some time, let out to father a daughter, then put back in cryo, then re-released."

"He was born in 1977, with a genetic mutation that allows him to do many things with only his mind..." I tell my friends, almost verbatim what my grandfather told me, about where he truly came from: how he started as a simple watchmaker who knew how things worked and how to apply others' abilities to his genetic code. How his reign of terror cost him his family in the end; and his oath to my grandmother to watch over my mother and then me. It took longer than expected to take, even after adding the statistical likelihood the questions I knew Kirk was going to ask.

"…so in order to find out how their abilities worked," McCoy asks, "he just points to their head, and mentally slices open the skull?"

"That is how he described the process to me," I tell him.

"Huh," McCoy grunts. "What I wouldn't give to have that kind of surgical precision."

Kirk only shakes his head, "The short time I've spent around the guy, he just doesn't come off as the guy that would do that. Maybe I'm biased because he's your grandpa and all, but maybe it's because it's been such a long time, that he's mellowed out. It's just hard to judge him for something that happened over a century ago." Kirk shrugs, his eyes piercing into mine, "He's one of the few members of your family that's left, I don't want to be the one that takes that from you."

I give a slight nod, "Your concern is most welcome, Jim. I am, however, most concerned about his sudden change in behavior." My gaze, followed by Kirk and McCoy, turns to Nyota.

She blushes, "That's my fault. We were just talking, and I asked him if he had the ability to, would he change it to make things better. Then he tells me that can manipulate time and space. That is how we were at the table one second then the other side of the yard the next. I..uh..suggested that he could fix it…" Nyota just trails off.

I tilt my head, "The ambiguity of the idiom is most illogical. What is it that Gabriel could fix?"

Kirk and McCoy groan. "What she means is that Gabriel is capable of moving through time and she wanted him to go back and make it so that the whole situation with Nero and the _Narada _incident never happened," Kirk explains.

"Although," McCoy begins, "we-" he motions a finger to indicate the four of us-"all know that what happened wasn't suppose to be."

"But at what price?" I ask of my friend. "Yes, this path of time, from the moment the _Kelvin_ was destroyed to this very second, was never meant to be. But the fact is that it has happened. What we are asking of my grandfather is to play god. Vulcans have always followed the belief that the good of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one, but even I am at a loss of this."

At this revelation, Kirk answers for me, "As you said, we'd be asking Gabriel to play god, and from what you told me, he learned the hard way that isn't the right way to live. Yeah, I'd give anything to grow up with my own father, but the knowledge that in the other life, he lived to see me become captain is enough solace for me. The Ambassador told me that."

"About him," Nyota interrupts, "why did you tell Gabriel that we were never together in that other timeline, but you never told me about it?"

I quirk my brow, "I never told you because the topic never arose, and had never told Gabriel because I did not consider it to be his business despite being my grandfather."

At this admission, McCoy rolls his eyes, "Yeah, sounds like he's not playing god."

"I must speak with him," I say, standing.

"What's the rush?" Kirk wants to know, following my steps to the shuttle station.

"My mother told me once when I was young that behavior is not all universal," I say. "Behavior within a race is not all same. To truly understand someone's behavior is by asking them why."

"We're coming with you," Nyota says.

"I apologize, but I do not require assistance or a chaperone," I say.

"Too bad," I hear Kirk say.

Illogically, the ride to Grandfather's neighborhood seems longer than usual; the distance from Gabriel's home to the park is the same as the distance from the park to his home. However, when we arrive at the shuttle station and make our way to Gabriel's, something is amiss.

"Is it just me," McCoy says, "or does this place seem off to you guys?"

"I agree that the upkeep is not the same as we last saw it, and it has only been a few hours," I say.

"This guy is really starting to creep me out," I hear Nyota say. We have reached the destination, but Gabriel's home is not as we had left it. The lawn is overrun with weeds and withering plant life, the windows are boarded up and the paint is faded and chipped.

"Is there something I can help you with?" a voice from behind us says. We all turn and see an older woman, gray streaking across dark hair.

"Yes," I say, "what happen to the person that lived here?"

The woman shrugs, "I really couldn't tell ya. It's been empty the last five years or so. One of them big banks owns it now, haven't been able to find a buyer. So it just sits there, as empty as a hollowed out pumpkin on Halloween."

I raise a brow and look at my friends, who look just as confused as I am, and then back to the woman, "No one?"

"Other than the occasional squatter, no one's owned the home in five, six years," the woman shakes her head. "You'd think we didn't hafta worry about things like whether or not someone could afford to keep their home, or put food on the table. I'm history teacher at a high school in the next county, and looking back, we haven't come that far in that regard. And with the cost of living, a teacher's pay isn't enough, not like those living out east." The woman shakes her head again, "If I could go back, and accept the teaching position with higher pay and the cost of living is lower over in Indiana, I'd take it in a heartbeat. Sorry I couldn't be of more help." Without another word the woman turns away and heads toward her own home.

"Ok, how is it that, just a few hours before, this place was the epitome of a family home?" McCoy wants to know. "I mean, we are at the same place, we didn't get off the shuttle too soon or too late?"

"This is where we were before," I say, before remembering something. "It was all an illusion."

Nyota nods, "Yeah, he said he could create illusions…but this is one big illusion. But is this the illusion, or is the perfect family home the illusion?"

"One way to find out," Kirk says, moving towards the home.

"Jim, I do not think that is wise," I say, not following the captain.

"Do you want to find the truth?

"Yes, of course-"

"No one lives here, apparently, so we're not breaking and entering."

"The property is owned by the bank, we would be trespassing."

Kirk rolls his eyes, "There's no sign saying no trespassing and by the state of the home they obviously don't care."

It is evident that any attempt to persuade Kirk from entering the home is futile. Following him to the front door, Kirk pries off the control panel housing the wiring. He searches for the mainframe that will allow him access. After several refusals at my attempt to point out the fact that, as no one lives there and there have been homeless people temporarily residing there, logically there would be no need to check for an activated security system, I simply grab the handle, and though rusted, successfully open the door, leaving a guffawed Kirk in my wake as I step into the empty home.

I gaze about the empty home. Behind me, I feel Nyota wrapping her arms around my midsection as she lays her head on my back between my shoulder blades. "What are you thinking?" she asks. "Tell me what is going through your mind."

"Why," I tell her. "Why go through the trouble of hiding himself." I am silent once more; however, my sensitive hearing picks up soft music playing in the distance. I am not the only one to hear the soft music, as McCoy walks into the foyer from an adjacent room with something in his hands.

"Hey, Spock," he says, handing me the object. "This was in the other room."

Upon closer inspection, it is a music box. There is a figurine of a fairy dancer, twirling in circles to the soft, sad tinkling tune I recognize as _Cristofori's Dream_. In the music box, there is a photo.

Looking over my shoulder, Kirk asks, "Is that…?"

"Yes." It is of Grandfather and my mother, who looks approximately seven years of age.

"There's something on the bottom," Nyota notices.

I turn over the box and see a 'Property of' sticker. A child's handwriting is scrawled across it, _Princess Amanda Grayson._ "My mother told me about this music box. She was telling me about an argument she had with her father, what it was about she couldn't remember it was that trivial. She had thrown it against the wall and told him she hated him. He just picked up the box and she just assumed that he had disposed of it. He had died the next day.

"According to the data logs for the _USS Indianapolis_, the plasma regulators had just been installed and that day was the last day for inspections. So I assume that would have been the only opportunity Gabriel would have at staging his death. He was trying to tell my mother good bye the day of the fight."

"Wow," McCoy says. "I really don't know what to say."

No more words are spoken and we make our way back to Starfleet. We part ways and Nyota and I make our way to my quarters. We have a silent meal of alfredo pasta and plomeek soup. I attempt my meditation before joining Nyota in bed. But after several restless hours, meditating deems futile. I glance over to the music box, still playing its sad song, and I realize what I had to do.

My packing awakens Nyota. "Spock? What is it?"

"I am going to see my grandmother, in Minnesota," I say.

"What? Why?" Nyota asks, fully awake.

"To get a better sense of my grandfather," I tell her. "Grandmother may not have known about his abilities, but she would have a better understanding of who Gabriel is.

"It is the only way I know how to grieve," I finally admit. I had not realized before now that I have not fully grieved my mother's death. As a Vulcan, our culture teaches us that death is a part of life, whether naturally or by force. It is illogical to 'grieve'. The person is still dead. Humans may find this cold, but it is fact. We pay our respect and we move on. As it is possible to retain a Vulcan's _katra_, after death they are not considered 'gone'.

But I am only half Vulcan, and my mother is only human.

"There is a transport flight to Saint Paul in a couple hours," I say, sealing my duffle close and taking Nyota's PADD. "I'll be there approximately at 700 hours. I have programmed my grandmother's contact information should anyone need to contact me." I sit on the bed and lean my forehead against hers. "All will be fine," I whisper, before placing a kiss on her lips.

A cab is outside, waiting to take me to the airport. As I am still hailed as a hero, I try to blend in by covering my Vulcan features with a knit ski cap Kirk had forgotten about, and civilian dress of faded jeans and sneakers and a gray UCLA sweat shirt. No one would recognize me as the Vulcan who saved Earth.

The flight itself is uneventful. The transport arrives in Saint Paul on schedule, and in the early hours of the morning, there are little people around, so spotting Grandmother proves unproblematic.

"Hello, Spock," Grandmother says, a tired smile crosses her face. I lean over her minute frame to allow her easier access in wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Like with my mother, I have come to accept their need in showing their affection for me.

"I apologize for the hour, Grandmother."

She only snorts and flips her hand, "Nonsense. I haven't seen you since Mandi's service, I'm just happy to have your company. Though I am curious, it isn't like you to do something spur of the moment. Mandi always told me you like to plan things out so far into the future….no matter. You're here, so what is on your mind, grandchild of mine?" With one hand carrying my duffel, Grandmother links her arms around my free one as we cross the terminal towards the exit.

"I would like to know more about Grandfather," I tell her. Her step falters for a moment, but it is only for an instant.

"I take it you don't mean Henry," she says, indicating her second husband who had divorced her ten years prior.

"Correct."

"You never had any questions about him before," Grandmother notes. "Why now?"

"Mother had always spoken of him," I say.

Grandmother nods, "Ah." As if that answers for everything.

The drive to her home is peaceful, classical music is playing softly in the car. I close my eyes, lack of sleep and meditation taking its toll on my body. Soon after I close my eyes Grandmother is calling my name.

"My apologizes, Grandmother. How long was I asleep?" I ask, taking my duffle from the back seat.

"Oh not too long, twenty minutes at least," she says. I follow her into her home. It is of a simple design: it lacked the technologies of this era I have come to realize. Like Gabriel's home had been, it lacked a home's main computing system, only limited to the security system. I see a dial that had to be manually turned to work the lights and in the kitchen there is no synthesizer I could see. Grandmother guides me to Mother's old bedroom. On one of the bookshelves, I see a picture of my mother. I go for a closer inspection.

Noticing my actions, Grandmother says, "Mandi's high school prom. You can't tell in this picture, but she was in tears because she had gotten stood up at her own prom."

I tilt my head, "I am unfamiliar with the term 'stood up'. And Mother had mentioned 'prom' but never went into detail about what it was."

"Being stood up is when the person fails to arrive at a predetermined time and place without any concern for the other person. And the prom is a social gathering held by the school, almost as a rite of passage, and the girl gets all prettied up for her prince charming to arrive and sweep her off her feet," Grandmother says with a sigh.

"But Mother's prince never arrived," I concluded. Grandmother nods, "Gabriel-your grandfather-was _so_ furious. A furious Gabriel is a force to reckon with, though he tended to take whatever abuse Mandi and I threw at him with a smirk on his face. He convinced Mandi to go to the prom with him as her date. Turned out, Mandi's date took another girl to the dance."

I pick up my mother's picture, "I cannot imagine someone preferring another's company over Mother's."

"Yeah," Grandmother agrees. "When she married your father, she couldn't bare to have the traditional Terran wedding, because Gabriel wasn't there to give her away."

"If I understand correctly, that means the father is giving his blessing by relinquishing his parental rights and passing her over to her intended."

Grandmother nods, "Yes, though I reckon your father found it 'illogical' to have such a fuss over a Terran wedding. She would have made a beautiful bride."

"Mother had told me she had an argument before his death," I say. "Do you recall what it was over?"

Grandmother's eyes grew dark, "I didn't realize she told you about that. Gabriel had become depressed by that time. Something was wrong with him but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, and his moods were interfering with Mandi's social life. One day she finally had enough. His incessant need for space compounded with equal need to spend time with her became more than what she could handle.

"She smashed the music box he had given her for her seventh birthday. He died the next day, and she mourned that he had died believing she hated him."

"He did not die believing such things," I say, causing Grandmother to look at me with a curious stare. "Parents always know the love their child has for them," I feel a warm liquid slide down my cheek. I wipe it off and look at the liquid on my fingers-tears. My eyes start to itch and my throat begins to tighten.

"Oh, my dear child," I hear my Grandmother say. She guides me to the foot of my mother's bed and we both sit down. I wrap my arms around my grandmother as she cradles my head at the crook of her neck and I begin my process of grieving my mother's death.

I cry.

* * *

After momentarily dispelling my grief, I light up some candles Grandmother had provided for me so I could meditate. I take several deep breaths before I found myself in another place…

_I find myself on a beach. It is night and the moon is full, giving enough luminosity for me to see that I am not alone._

"Grandfather_," I say. "_How did I get here_?"_

"You forget_," he says, "_I can enter dreams. I can also induce sleep in others if I have to_."_

"It is fortunate that you caught me in my meditative state, and not during my daily activities_."_

_Gabriel rolls his eyes, "_As if you could call flying to Minnesota as part of your daily activities. I can sense your movements to determine if you're moving about or just lounging around or 'in a meditative state'. So you mind my asking what you're doing here_."_

"I had come here to know where my mother came from_," I tell him without looking at him. I stare into the fictional water as its mist is sprayed across my face. "_I had come to realize that there is more to her family than I had previously known. And I need to know how it all fits together._"_

_Gabriel humorlessly laughs, "_If I didn't know any better, I'd say that sounded human_."_

"My mother's human_," I point out. "_Therefore that makes me part human_." I look at the beech around us. "_Where are we_?"_

"A beach in Costa Verde, California_," Gabriel says._

"Why did you leave? We came back, but the neighborhood we came back to was not the same as we had left it_."_

"Neat trick, huh_?" Gabriel shrugs. "_I wasn't sure it was a great idea for me to stick around. So I left. Then I tracked you to this place, so I decided to make my presence known, so to speak_."_

"So you are no longer in San Francisco_?"_

"Nope_," he says. "_I went back to New York_." Gabriel looks as if he is about to say more, but his whole demeanor changes suddenly. "_Something is wrong, don't you feel it_?"_

_I try to respond but I am struck with vertigo._

My eyes open and I collapse forward, coughing blood. I try to stand but I am struck weak. I fall forward, crashing into the bookshelf near the door. The noise I made causes Grandmother to run to the room.

"Spock!" She cries. I am unable to answer as I am still coughing up blood. She rushes to my side, trying to support my taller frame as she guides me to the bed. Then she hurries out of the room and I can hear her speaking into a comm. unit, urgently commanding that a medical unit come to her home.

I try to put myself into a healing trance, but my body is burning with pain that I cannot do so, and I am all too aware of the medical unit rushing me to the hospital. They silently curse the fact that they were unaware of my Vulcan heritage upon arriving at Grandmother's home. Hours go by as doctors hurry to find the cause of my illness and as they try to contact the Vulcan embassy for any Healers that might be within reach. Soon, Grandmother informs me that Nyota, Kirk, and McCoy are on their way and will arrive within the early hours of the following morning.

I am being kept in isolation within the ICU. It is dark and I am alone. The pain is disrupting my control and fear is rising inside my mind. I sense movement on my right.

"Who's there?" I call out, hoarse.

"It's me, Spock," Gabriel replies. "It's me, I'm here now." He takes my hand, and through the contact, the temporary bond, I feel a type of strength that of which I had never felt before, surge my mind; calming my thoughts despite the pain.

"It'll be ok, Spock, I'm here now," he repeats.

"I'm here now."

* * *

AN: God I know I'm evil.


	5. All For You

~*~_Fear. An emotion that has been forgotten in the centuries I have been alive. Similar to love and hate, fear is a strong motivator to push one into action. It was fear that drove me to do what I had sworn hours before I would never do. Whatever it took to save my family~*~ _

* * *

"It's ok, Spock," I repeat to my grandson, over and over. "I'm here. All will be ok."

I hold onto Spock's hand, and he continues to grasp my hands tightly, more out pain than using actual strength. As Vulcans are touch-telepaths, I try to use our contact to send my strength and calm to negate the fear in his mind.

"Do…do you know…what seems to be wrong with me?" Spock chokes out. I can sense pain wracking his body with each syllable.

"Hey, it's best if you don't talk, especially if it brings you more pain," I gently scold. "From what I've gathered from the doctors is that it's a toxin called _Angillian Sporadium_, comes from pollen off a flower."

Spock's eyes widen, and I take it as a sign that he knows of the toxin and what it can do. _Angillian Sporadium _is a toxin that comes from a plant that grows on a moon orbiting a Class L planet near the Neutral Zone. While the planet itself is marginally habitable, the moon shows _potential_ Class M characteristics but remains inhabitable due solely to the pollen. By itself, the pollen is harmless, until it comes in contact with water, and a chemical reaction releases poisonous toxins into the air. A toxin that is vital for the moon to survive but would kill most carbon-based life form that breathes in or ingest it. The blood crystalizes in the body, making movement and breathing painful, until the blood crystalizes altogether and the victim dies a painful death.

"Spock, there is no sure-fire way to know when you were exposed to the toxin," I tell him. "Symptoms can manifest instantly in some, sometimes it can take weeks or even months for the blood to start to crystalize. We just don't know when, or why."

I see a single tear well up in Spock's right eye, as he struggles against the urge to take deeper breaths. I reach over and wipe away the tear. _I'm scared._ The thought pops into my mind, Spock's thought. _Tell me how to not be._

"Just know that we will find a way," I tell him. "_I _will find a way."

I see Spock's ear perk a bit and marginally turns his head towards the entrance to his room. His own sensitive hearing picks up what I have failed to hear with my own enhanced hearing as his doctor escorts Annabelle, Nyota, Kirk, and McCoy into the room. "Don't worry, they won't be able to see me," I tell Spock.

"SPOCK!" They all cry out. I try to step away as Spock's friends surround his biobed, but his grip on my hand tightens. Dr. McCoy takes his place right next to me, bumping into my shoulder. His attention snaps to me, though he cannot see me as I created an illusion that Spock is alone. Fortunately, Dr. McCoy seems to realize that I am here.

"Spock," Dr. McCoy says, turning his attention back to his friend, "From what Dr. Patil has told us, it's _Angillian Sporadium_….." He continues to describe the toxin to Spock, with various interruptions from Annabelle and Kirk. Nyota does not pay attention, only sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Spock's hand to cup her face and gently caresses the back of his hand with her thumb.

"Though regardless of how long it takes for symptoms to show, once it does," Dr. McCoy says, "the victim has about two weeks before succumbing…."

"Dr. McCoy!" Annabelle scolds, fighting back tears. "Please refrain from speaking about my only grandson as a victim. He's just sick, and we have to find a way to make him better."

"Yes ma'am," Dr. McCoy says, looking down.

"It is okay, Grandmother," Spock's voice scratches out. "Grandfather came to see me. He says it will be okay; he'd find a way." At this slip, I my mind races as Annabelle just breaks out in tears, hurrying out of the room to compose herself. _Spock! Have you lost your Vulcan mind?!_ I screamed my thoughts to him. _She thinks I've been dead for the last thirty-two years! Now she thinks she's closer to losing you if you're hallucinating about your supposedly dead grandpa that you've never met!_

"Gabriel?" I hear Kirk say. "I take it you're here with us? How about you show yourself?" He shakes his head and mutters, "I feel like I'm speaking at a séance."

"Just a little bit," I say, making myself visible and startling the three Starfleet officers. I turn my attention to Dr. McCoy. "I'm not familiar with this toxin other than what it can do and where it comes from. Is there a cure?"

Dr. McCoy shakes his head, "None. The only beings we know that can safely breathe or ingest the pollen are the Xindi, we don't know how, though. Other than through trade, we haven't had much contact with them since Admiral Archer was captain, way before the Federation was founded."

"What I'm thinking is that this is part of an assassination plot," Kirk says. He spares Spock and Nyota a regretful glance. "It makes it unpredictable because no one knows when it will strike when taken, and is extremely effective. The only lead we have is that since it takes big money to be able to get even an ounce. We need to look at people with money or people in big corporations with access to money…"

Nyota snaps, "Are you so ready to give up? You talk as if you've given up trying to find a way to save him, and just plow on to find the one who put him here in the first place."

Kirk's face flushes, "Sorry, I didn't realize I was coming off that way. It's just…what is there to do? No one has ever survived the _Angillian Sporadium_ toxin."

We are all silent. I close my eyes and search out Annabelle, and find that she is praying in the chapel connected to the hospital. Then a thought came to me.

"Dr. McCoy, my immortality stems from rapid cellular regeneration," I say. "The girl I got the ability from, she had been able to use her blood itself to heal others…."

"A blood transfusion?" Kirk asks. "Could that work, Bones?"

"Now hold on," I interrupt. I think hard on this theory, brows furrowing. "Years ago, I had tried injecting my blood to heal someone. At first, it worked, but then within minutes the wounds reappeared and he died. Back then, I hadn't thought about why it didn't work."

"But now?" Dr. McCoy prods.

"Gaining that ability didn't change my blood type. The body still had a way to protect itself. Even though Spock's blood is copper based, it would still have some human elements that could react poorly to my blood type, B+."

"Then how does that help us?" Nyota snaps.

"Beloved," Spock wheezes out, "calm your mind. I think…..what he is trying to say…is that the girl he spoke of, she could save me."

I nod. "Doctor, would that work?"

The doctor could only shrug, "In theory maybe. I would have to test her blood and see how it would react to Spock's blood, and/or possibly creating a useable serum from it. And that is if we can find her and get her to help us. That all takes time that we don't have, especially since I don't have any authority to use the labs here to test it all without having to explain _why_, that part would have to happen back at San Francisco."

"Gabe," Kirk implores, "are there any abilities you know of that could help him? Any alternative medicine we haven't thought of?"

I am silent for a moment. "I know of an ability to literally control the flow of life, to be able to heal any living organism and, in turn, remove life from that organism…."

"I can feel a 'but…' coming," Dr. McCoy says.

"It has been nearly a century since I have come across someone with an ability, and I have no way of knowing right away if it is one we need. People with any sort of abilities are severely outnumbered by those without," I say, defeated.

While we stand there, looking defeated, Dr. McCoy still looks determined.

"What's the girl's name? Where can you locate her?"

"Her name is Claire Bennet," I close my eyes and concentrate on Claire's thought patterns. It has been over a century since I have tracked or seen her, but her thoughts are as familiar to me as my own. However, "She's off planet, and I can't track that far from where I am now," I say. "But I know now who can help us," I say, grimly.

"Who?" Kirk asks.

"Where can we find them?" Dr. McCoy wonders.

"Noah Bennet and Angela Petrelli, and it's not 'where', but 'when'," I say.

"Wait, you want to go back in time?" Nyota asks. "I thought you were against that, what happened to not wanting to play God?"

"It's only one person, and would you rather let Spock die when there is a chance he could still be saved?" I give Nyota a steely look, but before she could say anything, Kirk jumps in,

"Whatever the case may be, we have a possible solution and I think we should take it." Kirk looks to Dr. McCoy.

"Bones, do you have your tricorder and portable medical equipment?"

"Well, of course I do, Jim," he scoffs, looking insulted. "I'm a doctor!"

"Ok, listen carefully," I say, "these are very important people who work for a company that specializes in finding and cataloging, and-if necessary-containing people with abilities. The year I am taking us will have the Company running at its peak with all the data they had collected. Also, remember these people know me and to them, back then, I am _very much _still a bad guy. They're not going to be able to differentiate me from Sylar, and will shoot first and ask questions later. We must tread carefully with them."

"But how can we get them to help us if they believe we're in league with you?" Kirk wants to know.

"I can use my telekinesis to hold them off long enough to explain our presence," I explain. "Despite what they thought of me, they were good people."

I then have Dr. McCoy disconnect Spock from the monitors and both he and Nyota gently pull Spock to a sitting position. After making sure the doctor has his equipment, I give further instructions,

"The moment we touch down, get Spock to the nearest furniture and lay him down and make sure he's comfortable. Dr. McCoy, be sure that you're the only one monitoring his progress. Do not let the others try and talk you into letting one of their doctors to check him out, simply for their own curiosity. Finally, for however long it takes that we're there, I must beg you not to seek Sylar out. He is very much a bad guy, and will not hesitate to kill you if you get in his way."

They all nod in understanding and I think back to the year and place of our destination: the Petrelli Mansion, 2013. The trip is instantaneous, and we appear in a darken study of the mansion. From a window, the setting sun is giving the study enough light to make our way to the couch. As the others are tending to Spock, I stand to execute the next step.

But just as I stand to my full height, I hear a distinct _click_-

* * *

As Nyota and Bones comfort Spock, I just crouch there, looking at my commanding officer, my friend. This toxin in his system, it is ripping a part all the Vulcan stoicism and dignity he worked so hard to maintain; pain and fear visibly shown on his face.

I vaguely hear Gabriel say something about searching for a man named Peter, in hopes of getting him to act as mediator. But as Gabriel stands, I hear a quiet but distinct _pyew_ and a grunt, followed by a dull, heavy thud.

Suddenly, lights turn on and I leap up to face a tall, older man with black, horn rimmed glasses and an old fashioned hand gun pointing at me. Behind the man, I see a woman, standing with a regal air and stoicism that could give Spock's great-aunt T'Pau a run for her money. Next to her stood a short, but well-muscled guy about my age with enough features to show that he is the woman's son. Two more men stood beside him, one taller, with a husky, corn-fed build and what looked like a badge of some sort hanging around his neck; the other man is the only one with a visible ethnicity to make him stand out from the others, Indian origin. But this one has an intelligent glint in his eyes that I saw often in Bones and others in the Science field back at the Academy. This is the scientist we had to look out for.

But at the moment, they were all looking at me, and they all look pissed. Slowly, I raise my hands, and carefully shifting my stance so that I am blocking their view of my friends. Then, I look down, and I see Gabriel. He's spread-eagle on the floor, eyes blank and staring right at me. Blood is pooling around his head and some dribble from a corner of his mouth.

"Dude, you killed our ride!" I blurt.

"You will be joining him if you don't explain why you're here," the man with the gun says, calmly as ever.

"How did you know?" I dare myself to ask. "That we would be here, I mean?"

The regal woman answers, "I had dreamt you would be here."

"You got your answer," says the gunned man. "Tell us why you are here; what is your association with Sylar?"

"We came to this year in good faith," I say. Taking page from Spock, I try to appear calm and collected._ I am a captain, spreading an olive branch of peace. I am Captain James Freaking Kirk._ "We need your help."

"Nothing associated with Sylar is ever good," the man growls. "Do you even know what he has done? What he can do? Why would Sylar do anything remotely good?"

"Because," Spock's voice wheezes from behind me. He tries to stand despite Nyota and Bones trying to say otherwise. With great effort, he manages to stand tall, "Because he is my grandfather, and I will die without your help."

The man is dumfounded with this announcement, and the others stand conflicted. The young man steps away from his mother.

"When you say you came to this year," he starts, "what did you mean by that?"

"We're from the year 2258."

The man's eyes widen, "Hiro?! Sylar got to Hiro Nakamura?"

I just shook my head, "Look, I don't know who this Hero person is but we need to know now if you are willing to help us. We have a unique situation where a superhuman blood transfusion wouldn't work on his grandson!"

"Why wouldn't his blood work?" a soft, feminine voice asks. A young teenage girl stood in a corner, away from the main group.

Before I could say anything, Spock erupts in to a coughing fit, spraying thick green blood across the ivory colored carpet, mixing with Gabriel's red blood. When the fit was done, Spock answered for me.

"We come from time where humans are not the only ones in the universe, and my copper-based blood would most likely reject Gabriel's blood," Spock says.

For the first time, they all notice Spock's ears and greenish pallor-greener now since he has gotten sick.

"You're half human," the Indian scientist says in wonder.

Spock nods.

The girl hesitantly walks closer to us, closer to Spock. She reaches up to Spock's taller frame, like she is about to touch his ears. She pulls her hand away at the last minute and gives him a sweet, shy smile.

Spock raises his hand and splits his fingers to form the 'V' and thumb out, "The proper….Vulcan greeting is…'live long, and prosper', which something tells me that you will."

She returns the salute. "My name is Claire. Claire Bennet." She looks over to the gunned man, "Dad, please?"

He puts away his gun. "Noah Bennet."

I shake the proffered hand, "Jim Kirk. This is Dr. Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura, and this here is Spock."

I spare a glance at Gabriel, barely acknowledging the introductions of the other group, as they still hadn't bothered to remember the dead man on the floor.

"What will happen to him? Despite what he has done in the past, you killed a man who was trying to do the right thing."

The girl, Claire, gives me a hard look, but the look is tainted with pity in her eyes. "You have good intentions, but you are being misled by Sylar. Someone like him can't change. He can try all he wants but he could never change."

"Miss Claire," Spock says, "you cannot understand how two hundred-fifty years can affect a person. It is not logical to ignore how those years can affect someone like him, like you."

"Like me?"

"Like someone who can't die," I say. "Gabriel-and he is Gabriel to us-from what we learned from Spock, is that he lost his motivation to do the things he had done as this Sylar person. He found a new purpose in life, something to be proud of. He had put all his faith, his hopes, in you guys. To save his grandson, the only family he has left. Please, help us," I plead.

Bennet looks over to the man named Matt Parkman, "What were you able to get from their minds?"

"It's the truth," he says. "At least, they believe it to be." Matt gives Gabriel a hard look before sitting down.

A sudden cough startles everyone in the room, and Gabriel stands to his feet, groaning as he moved. He spits something into his hand and it is the bullet that was shot into his head, he lets it drop to the floor and glares hard at Bennet.

"Really?" Gabriel spats. "A bullet to the back of the head? You should have remembered that I was able to shapeshift the little sweet spot to a different area. You can't kill me that way anymore. I had figured you'd shoot first, but couldn't you have given me five minutes to explain?"

"I wanted you out of the way long enough so that I could interrogate your friends," Bennet replies. "You posed the bigger threat, so we had to take you out first. Angela dreamt that you would be here, but it wasn't clear enough to distinguish you from being from a different time."

Bennet steps up to Gabriel and stood nose to nose, "I will do what I can to help you, and try to give you the benefit of the doubt," Bennet's voice cracks, as if he struggled to say this. "But, so help me God, if you give me any reason to doubt you, I will end you."

Gabriel gives a sincere nod, "Understood."

I breathe a sigh of relief, but then notice something behind Gabriel, "BONES! Put the tricorder away! Now is not a good time!"

"But Jim, theses readings are amazing!"

* * *

A/N: how about them apples? also, i'll keep this as alternating between chapters primarily between Spock's and Sylar/Gabriel's POV with maybe another person POV. i'll make it easy in the first opening narrative on distinguishing POV, as i hate interjecting Who's POV in the beginning. don't know why, just think it gets in the way.

feel free to tell me if you like it, what you would like to happen.


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